


Three Colours: Blue

by elaine



Series: Three Colours [2]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scarf Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:39:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine





	Three Colours: Blue

Blair stood at the top of the stairs, a little smile hovering around the corners of his mouth. On the bed were two long, narrow silk scarves – one patterned in black and grey, the other a deep, vivid blue – tangled together in a casual sprawl. He glanced around, almost as if he expected Jim to leap out from behind the dresser, even though he knew Jim wasn't, couldn't possibly be, behind it.  
  
So. Looked like Jim wanted to play games tonight. His mind filled with a vision of himself, his wrists tied to the railing, twisting sweaty and aroused beneath Jim's naked body, and for a moment he was tempted. He strolled over to the bed and picked the scarves up.   
  
There was nothing else on the bed that wouldn't normally be there, and it suddenly occurred to him that he could have fun with this. Jim hadn't left instructions, so Blair wasn't bound to follow them, was he? Besides, if Jim thought he could tie  _both_  his wrists to the railing, then he was overestimating either Blair's ingenuity or his flexibility.  
  
Yeah, Jim  _deserved_  a little surprise.  
  
Blair hurriedly stripped off his clothes, tossing them into the hamper, and picked up the black scarf. Okay, this could work… he folded it in four lengthways and tied it around his hips. The blue scarf he looped over the front of the black one, drawing it down over his dick and balls. He cradled the fabric in place with one hand and twisted the remaining length into a narrow rope. It fit snugly enough between his ass cheeks, and Blair grinned as he tied it off at the back. He tugged firmly and it held. Oh yeah, this would work.  
  
***  
  
Jim arrived home not much later. Blair heard his key in the lock and grinned. Either he was impatient, or he'd been watching the loft from somewhere.   
  
“Blair?” The keys dropped into the basket and Jim's footsteps crossed the wooden floor.  
  
“Up here, Jim.” Blair kept his voice steady, normal, even though he was simmering with anticipation and arousal.  
  
He waited until he heard Jim stop at the top of the stairs before he turned his head. “I got your message.”  
  
“You…” Jim's voice sounded strangled. He swallowed audibly. “Okay.”  
  
“I thought I'd…” he gestured towards the impromptu loincloth, “you know… improvise.” He smiled innocently. “You like it?”  
  
Jim's lips twitched. “It's very… you.” He walked over to the bed and stood looking down at Blair. “Blue looks good on you.” He leaned over Blair, supporting himself on his hands and pressed his lips against Blair's.  
  
Blair opened to him with a soft moan. Jim's kisses were like a religious experience, deep and intense, and this one seemed to go on forever. When Jim finally released him and sank down beside him, Blair felt the same kind of boneless satisfaction he got after a particularly good orgasm.  
  
He smiled lazily up at the ceiling. “Welcome home, honey.”  
  
“Mmn.” Jim was nuzzling the side of his neck, his hands roaming down over Blair's body to…  
  
“Oh, no you don't.” Blair captured Jim's hands, lifting each in turn to his mouth to place a firm kiss on the palm. He kept a precautionary hold on them afterward. “You can take the scarves off if you want, but not with your hands.”  
  
Jim abandoned his nuzzling briefly. “Not with…?”  
  
“No hands.” Blair slid his fingers through Jim's and brought their mouths together again. A minute or two later he said, somewhat breathlessly, “think of it as a challenge.”  
  
“A challenge?” Jim's eyes glinted, and Blair realised he'd made a tactical error. A blunder, even. Jim grinned ferally. “Okay, I like a challenge.”  
  
Blair's heart began to beat even faster, but Jim simply returned to nuzzling his throat, licking and nipping his way down to Blair's collarbone. His hands swept over Blair's chest, stroking his ribs and tweaking his nipples, but never venturing below his waist.  
  
“Hey,” Blair protested weakly, “you've got way too many clothes on, man. Let's even things up a bit here.”  
  
“Okay.” Jim still had that disturbing intensity in his face. Blair knew that look – battle lines were drawn and all bets were off. He shivered in nervous anticipation as Jim stood and began to unbutton his shirt.  
  
Jim shrugged the shirt off and hung it neatly over the railing, then casually flipped open the button of his jeans and pulled his vest up, far more slowly than was strictly necessary. Blair's already full cock twitched happily, a spreading spot of wetness darkening the silk. He watched dazedly as Jim drew the vest off over his head, his muscles rippling.  
  
God, he was a wet dream. Even better, he was  _Blair's_  wet dream.  
  
The vest joined the shirt on the railing and Jim tugged his zipper down, exposing light blue boxers riding low on his belly. He unfastened the button, and Blair swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. With a tiny smile and a significant glance in the direction of Blair's loincloth, Jim turned away slightly and bent over to untie his boots. Not coincidentally placing his very fine ass directly in Blair's field of vision.  
  
When he'd finished peeling off his socks, Jim returned to the bed, his fingers stroking absently up and down the fine line of hair below his navel. “Now. Where were we?”  
  
“Uhn…” Blair said, intelligently.  
  
“Oh, yeah…” Jim leaned over him, but this time his head – and more importantly, his mouth – was even with Blair's middle. He lowered his head and swirled his tongue around Blair's navel, all the while watching Blair from under his lashes. “…here. Or maybe here…” he sucked the sensitive skin low on Blair's belly hard enough to leave a dusky mark.  
  
A shudder rippled through Blair and his cock hardened a bit more. Jim ignored it, concentrating his efforts on painting meandering trails over Blair's skin with his tongue. Blair moaned, happily appreciative of his lover's efforts, but wishing he'd get to something a bit more… interesting. Soon.  
  
But Jim showed no sign of that. In fact, Blair could almost believe that Jim was deliberately ignoring the cock that was straining at the damp silk only inches away from that beautifully sculpted cheek. Curious, he gave into the temptation to jerk his hips upward; it was getting damned hard to lie still beneath Jim's ministrations.  
  
At worst, Blair thought, Jim might ignore his subtle hint, but he'd underestimated his lover. Without missing a beat, Jim caught hold of Blair's thighs, holding them down and apart. Spreading him out like a fucking centrefold, Blair thought indignantly. Although, when Jim placed a wet, messy kiss in the hollow of his groin he didn't so much protest as groan with pleasure.  
  
And when Jim chuckled – evilly, Blair was convinced – the vibrations it sent through his cock made up for the indignity. Well, almost. “Hey, Jim, come on…”  
  
Cool blue eyes looked up at him. “There a problem, Sandburg?”  
  
Oh, he was  _so_  upping the ante here. Blair folded. He knew when he was outclassed. “No, man. No problem.”  
  
Jim's smile was the kind he gave terrified perps in the interview room, right before he went for the jugular. “Good. Because I'd hate for you to think there was something…  _lacking_ … in my technique here.”  
  
Blair was already shaking his head when Jim went too far. “Besides, you know what they say about arguing with a man who has his hand on your dick.”  
  
Frustration got the better part of discretion. Jim was  _totally_  screwing with him. “Yeah, but you  _don't_  have your hand on my dick, Jim. And  _that's_  the problem.”  
  
“Thought I wasn't allowed to touch.” Jim lifted an eyebrow.  
  
“With your  _hands_.” Blair huffed. ”And don't start with me or I swear I'll sleep on the couch tonight. No,  _you'll_  sleep on the couch.”  
  
Jim's eyes sparkled with amusement. “So, I'm allowed to touch, just not with my hands.”  
  
“No, no you can  _touch_ , you're just not allow to take…” Blair' explanation ended in a gurgle as Jim deliberately dragged his tongue along Blair's cock from root to tip. “Okay, yeah, that works… _fuck_!”  
  
It was even harder to keep still after that. But whenever Blair moved around too much, Jim simply leaned on his thighs and kept licking. And nibbling. And sucking. It was torture; and it was fucking  _incredible_. The only drawback was that Jim was making no attempt to free Blair's cock from the silk scarf. At all.  
  
He managed to raise his head, and  _shit_ … Jim had really gone to town on his dick. The silk was soaked through and clinging to his cock like a second skin, the vivid blue darkened almost to black. Jim smiled lazily up at him, along the length of his body.  
  
“Jesus, Jim…” He thumbed Jim's swollen, reddened lips tenderly. “Just take the damned thing off.”  
  
“Oh, I will.” Jim's smile broadened. “But not with my  _hands_.”  
  
Blair couldn't tear his eyes away as Jim lowered his head again, nudging gently at his balls, sliding his tongue under the edge of the soaking cloth, and  _licking_ , and  _nudging_  his way upwards, until the silk lifted and the head of Blair's cock slid out, dark and swollen and gleaming with precome.  
  
Jim grinned at him like a kid who'd been offered a lollipop and sucked the tip into his mouth. Blair groaned and let his head flop back onto the mattress. Never fuck with an ex-Army Ranger. He really ought to remember that…  
  
Now, of course, he wanted to move more than ever. Not thrust, exactly, because most of his dick was still trapped under the cloth, but…  _move_. Yet every time he tried, the pressure on his thighs increased a little and he subsided reluctantly again.  
  
Just when Bair was about to shoot, and to hell with the consequences, Jim abandoned his cock and headed downwards again. More licking. More nudging with his nose, taking in not so subtle sniffs as he went. Pushing back on Blair's legs so…  _fuck_ … Blair felt a soft swipe of tongue against his hole and keened helplessly.  
  
“Jim…  _Jim_ … oh god… oh  _fuck_ …”  
  
“Easy, babe.” Jim placed a gentle kiss on the inside of Blair's thigh and went back to work, his tongue first teasing, then probing Blair's asshole until Blair had to clutch at his cock to stop himself from coming.  
  
“You're killing me here, man.” Blair squirmed against Jim's tongue. “Just take the damn thing off.”  
  
“Nuh-uh. I'm enjoying this too much.” Jim paused to grin at him before working his way under the wet cloth and inside him again.  
  
And – oh  _god_  – he was beginning to think this really would kill him, when the slow, stabbing thrusts began. Blair pressed his head back into the mattress and arched his back, his breath coming in ragged sobs. “ _Please_ , Jim… fuck… I can't hold…”  
  
A couple more thrusts and then Jim pulled back, rising up to kneel on the bed beside him. How could Jim look so utterly debauched, with his short, unruffle-able hair, and still half dressed? But his mouth was soft and wet and swollen, and his eyes gleamed in sultry satisfaction, and underneath the jeans Blair could easily see the outline of his cock, ramrod hard.  
  
Jim's eyes followed his gaze as it slid down from his mouth to his chest, to his belly and lingered hopefully on the open V of his jeans. A tiny smile quirked at the corner of his mouth, and Blair's heart skipped a beat.  
  
Blair moistened his lips and whispered, “please, Jim.”  
  
“Have you got the lube?” Jim waited while he scrabbled under the covers to find the tube he'd stashed there earlier. He caught it one-handed when Blair tossed it to him, his left hand already shoving down into his pants. He pulled out his cock, cradling it in his fingers and rubbing lightly up and down the shaft with his thumb and waited a couple of seconds, letting Blair get a good look before he smiled evilly. “Now turn over, Sandburg. On your side.”  
  
The husky tone of Jim's voice sent a shudder through Blair, and he hastened to obey, waiting as the mattress dipped with Jim's movements, hearing the rustle of clothing shifting against skin. He touched his cock lightly, promise of relief in the not too distant future, and closed his eyes.  
  
There was something so hot about not being able to see Jim. To hear the ragged murmur of his voice so close, to feel the heat of his body, the rasp of denim against his skin – and, oh god, how he loved it that Jim hadn't taken his jeans off – and then the slick rub of Jim's cock between his cheeks.  
  
Jim was breathing hard, his hand, brushing accidentally against Blair's ass, was shaking. It only took moments – moments that seemed like  _hours_  – for Jim to push aside the wet silk, much looser now than when Blair had put it on, and to press inside him.  
  
“God…  _Blair_ …”  
  
He closed his eyes as Jim's arms came around him, concentrating on the feel of Jim's mouth, hot and moist against his throat, and the burning pressure of Jim's cock inside him. Jim's hand flattened against his groin, holding him still while Jim rocked into him, slowly at first, but building in speed and force until their bodies were shaking the bed beneath them.  
  
“Fuck.  _Fuck_ … I can't…” Was it his voice or Jim's? It was so distorted, Blair couldn't tell. The pressure in his groin was impossible, and he opened his eyes again, staring down at Jim's hand, holding his cock – big, square palm, long elegant fingers, thumb slowly rubbing tiny circles over the head. He watched, distantly, as the milky strands spurted over his belly and Jim's fingers, but it seemed like an eternity before he actually felt the climax hit him.  
  
Then, for a long time, he felt nothing at all.  
  
***  
  
Next morning Jim washed the scarves by hand and hung them to dry in the bathroom. When he got home that afternoon he took them down and folded them, smiling reminiscently. He really ought to iron them, but Blair would only laugh. Instead, he took them upstairs and hung them on his closet door with the ties he never wore.  
  
Tomorrow he'd have to find time, somehow, to buy Rhonda another birthday present. Maybe some flowers would be a better idea. Or chocolates. Not scarves, though. He'd never be able to hand the present over without blushing like a schoolboy.


End file.
